


Savior

by UncleManx



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dark, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Heavy Angst, Help, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Porn With Plot, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Reverse Harem, Suicide Attempt, There's gonna be a lot of sex, idk - Freeform, reader is female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UncleManx/pseuds/UncleManx
Summary: Growing up, you always seemed to get yourself into the most incomprehensible of situations. Unfortunately, this trait of yours seemed to pass with you into your adult life. You've grown used to the unknown and unexpected, so you're not surprised when an oddly colored and glitchy skeleton jumped into your life and saved you from your worst enemy, yourself.This seems to attract the unwanted attention of various incredibly dangerous, otherworldly skeletons and skeleton-like creatures from all around the multiverse. Chaos, heated moments, and jealousy ensues.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 113





	Savior

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a wonderful author named RubyDracoGirl! Go check her work out, she's amazing.

  
He came into your life when you needed him the most. 

  
You remember the date vividly. It was a Saturday night, and you were off from work. You had just gotten demoted from your job as a manager, working at a place that dealt with financial services.   
  


You understood. It wasn’t like you were resentful or anything. In fact, you were almost grateful. You hadn’t really been pulling your weight, and most of your working life was done on autopilot. There was probably somebody else way more qualified in your region to do your job, and you were at peace with that.  
  


At least, that's what you kept telling yourself as you stared at the chair in the kitchen, contemplating.  
  


Nothing really mattered anyways. You had shrugged off the thought as you dragged the chair into the bedroom, grabbing your bedsheets as you went.

  
Your job paid surprisingly well, it wasn’t like you had been suffering financially. Your large, somewhat expensive looking house seemed to vouch for that. It wasn’t like you went all out, but it was somewhat clear you had money.   
  


It hadn’t always been like that. You were born into poverty, your parents literally living in a run down apartment building. They were never around during the day, even when you were very young. It was probably because they were out working their asses off to make ends meet. When you came of age to leave the house, you did so quietly. They didn’t know you had left until that evening when they came home and saw the note you had left.

  
Well, you thought they did, at least. You haven’t seen them since then, you had been mostly alone up until now.   
  


At the time, you were lucky to land a scholarship with barely passing grades and an absent score that rivaled even the sickest of students. It managed to land you a place in a college that taught you your degree.  
  


You weren’t even ill.. Not in the physical sense, at least. You had been struggling with bouts of undiagnosed depressive episodes, but you always denied the fact that you had a mental illness. The thought of it made you shiver, because if you accepted it, that made it true.  
  


Sweat had dripped down your brow as you glanced up at the ceiling fan, calculating. You were ready.  
  


Quite literally nobody would care. You had barely interacted with your former employees as it was. They probably wouldn’t have even noticed you were gone.  
  


You had felt so alone, at the time. And as you mounted the chair in front of you, gripping the makeshift rope and tying it around your neck, a low-pitched, staticky grunt had sounded from behind you.  
  


You had been so caught up in your mind that you hadn’t noticed you had company and you barely turned around to look where the noise resonated from. You weren’t even surprised when black bones and a tight yellow smile greeted you.  
  


You had stared at each other for a few minutes, cautiously sizing each other up, before you turned around and went back to securing the noose around your neck. The skeleton had watched silently as you steadied yourself and took a deep breath, kicking your leg out and knocking the chair out from under you.  
  


Until a blue strand caught it midway, keeping you from doing so. When you looked back, the skeleton had his phalanges pulled up to his eye sockets, pulling the same cobalt substance from the tear tracks located there. You were quiet as he used the strings to unwind the sheets from around your neck, pulling them off the ceiling fan and onto the ground.  
  


Numbly, you had grimly watched the shadows move about on the floor as he used his webbing to gently pull you off the chair and place you on the ground.  
  


The skeleton, which you duly noted as male, tied a string around your wrist, leading you to your bathroom. Thinking back, it was kind of odd how he knew exactly where it was.

  
He had flipped the toilet lid down and set you on it, leaning over the sink and grabbing a wet towel. 

  
It dropped in your lap and you unconsciously picked it up to wipe the tears off your face, the mismatched eyelights of the creature in front of you watching it do so. 

  
After that, he had disappeared, until exactly two days later when you were sitting in your kitchen, head placed on your hands as sobs wracked through you. You had not returned to work after being demoted, you remembered. 

  
The high pitched whir of reality being torn apart beside you caused you to lock up, your crying momentarily interrupted. When the same skeleton from before sat down in front of you, red and yellow metacarpals folded calmly on the table, you collapsed into tears. 

  
You had wailed for nearly two hours that day, the skeleton sitting across the table idly watching. He had stayed silent and still the entire time, only shifting his position once or twice to drop a handful of tissues in front of your face. 

  
Despite never verbally interacting with each other, you soon began to think of him as a friend. 

  
The next week, he had brought you a chocolate bar and a glass of water as you laid in bed and coughed, your body on the verge of failing. He had seemed to know that you hadn’t been eating, if the lack of muscle and fat in your face and arms was anything to go by. 

  
That morning, he sat on the bed next to you and watched you eat and drink, making sure you finished it. For the first time in a month you had cried out of thankfulness, shrieking into the pillow with ugly sobs. He never once touched you or comforted you, just watched and _listened._

  
Once every few days or so he would visit you, bringing gifts or food, since you had neglected going to the store since the night you met him. 

  
You had never actually spoken to him until almost a month later, when you whispered a quiet, “Thank you.” under your breath while you were watching a soap opera. He had turned to you from your loveseat, his phalanges lingering on the end of his knitting needle, before growling an answer back. 

  
“ _Don’t mention it._ ” His voice was incredibly deep and multilayered with separate pitches, his words overlapping. They were nearly incomprehensible with how much glitching and static they held.   
  


Your world didn’t have monsters or magic, but you never questioned his odd appearance once. You accepted the way he looked and wondered if he was all an illusion at times. You didn’t want to take his kindness for granted, and you would treat his weird voice the same way.

  
The relationship continued to develop, with him visiting more frequently and bringing more items with him. It got closer and closer, until one day, you had a _short_ conversation. 

  
“Why are you doing this?” You had asked one evening as you sat at the table and sipped spoonful after spoonful of the spicy chili soup he had brought you for dinner.   
  


He was placing bottles of water into your fridge, restocking you with food now that you weren’t earning money. You dreaded the times you needed to pay your bills. Without so much as glancing at you, he let out a long, drawn out sigh.  
  


“Because _I feel like it._ ” The sassy, short remark came as a small sting, but you swallowed away the hurt and slowly smiled. It seemed like he was quite walled off and didn’t open up easily.   
  


“Oh.. Okay.” You whispered, looking down. “I appreciate it anyways.. This really means a lot to me, y’know..?” Your words trailed off, but he froze, his red sockets wide.  
  


The conversation ended that night. But the next day at noon, you tried again.  
  


“What’s your name?” You asked. You were opening up to him as well. “I’m.. I’m (Y/N).”  
  


He hesitated for a few minutes, staring down at his sandals, before he lifted his head and his eternal snarl turned into a slightly less angry scowl.  
  


“I.. My name is Sans.” He looked frustrated for a moment, fighting with himself as he gave a stressed grunt, before blurting out, “Just- Just call me Error!”  
  


You hummed, turning your attention back to the plate in your lap. “That’s a cool name.” You didn’t really have anything else to say, but you did agree with what you said.  
  


The skeleton standing at your bookshelf flushed a bright blue color, nearly making his tear tracks invisible against the glow of his face. “T-Thanks, _hu-human-_ ” He sputtered, stumbling on his words.   
  


Then, a few hours later, you tried once more.  
  


“Where do you go when you’re not here?” You flushed at your own question when it flew out of your mouth, silently berating yourself. That sounded creepy as hell, and besides, it was none of your damn business.  
  


You both were staring out your window at the time, looking across the unkept garden behind your house. The skeleton seemed to gnash his teeth slightly, fingers twitching in his lap.  
  


“Home.” Error fired back, his head slightly tilted in your direction. You smiled at the thought of his house, trying to picture it. Judging by his.. Interesting choice in clothing, you bet it probably wasn’t as tidy as yours was, despite you having not cleaned it since before you met him.

  
“What’s it like?” You didn’t bother asking if he liked it there.   
  


“ _Cold. Empty._ ” The quiet shudder in his voice did not go unnoticed by you. He acknowledged your concerned gaze and growled, before slowly chuckling. “But it’s home.”   
  


“Doesn’t sound very nice.” You commented, watching butterflies land on the wildflowers that had grown in your planters.  
  


Error didn’t bother saying anything else. He may have seemed cold, but you could tell you were starting to break through to him. It would just take some time.  
  


Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long until you became attached to him. You began to talk to him more and more, and the sharp blockade he seemed to have that prevented you from learning more about him seemed to dissipate.  
  


He told you that he didn’t like touch, and you suddenly understood why he used his strings for everything. He also told you he couldn’t see very well, and that he liked to knit.  
  


You took in the information and respected his fear, being sure that you never brushed against him and stood a good two feet away at all times. You also let him try on your old glasses, which didn’t fit against his rounded skull.. It was easy to deduce at that moment that he probably wasn’t a human skeleton.  
  


You even smiled warmly at his confession that he liked knitting, warmth spreading across your heart. _That’s adorable_ , you had thought.   
  


You didn’t know it at the time, but you had already started falling for him. At the time, you didn’t even know what that felt like, so you were just under the impression that you were close friends.   
  


There were definitely some rough patches, since Error was quite prickly. He acted quite harsh and inconsiderate, and he honestly frustrated you sometimes. Especially in the last couple of days, where he would lash out for no reason, then go back to completely complacent with a fierce blush on his face.   
  


He got extremely weird during that time, scooting closer to you on your couch, or hanging out in your bedroom for minutes after you left. It made you worried, but you deduced it to some sort of weird skeleton etiquette and that he was just warming up to you more.  
  


Then, he disappeared for a week.  
  


You went back to sobbing on the toilet, hand placed tightly over your mouth. Oddly enough, you had started your period. Aching, muscle rooted pain spread across your lower back, and every time you stretched, you thought you could feel something inside of you physically _tear_ . It was pure hell, and you felt lost without him.   
  


Only a day after you had finally stopped bleeding had he come back, looking incredibly guilty. You had been on the couch, knees hugged into your chest, when he suddenly dropped down beside you and threw his strings over your body, wrapping you up in the blue substance.  
  


You immediately relaxed into them, their pleasant warmth seeping into your skin. Error whispered continuous apologies, his hands drawn together as he held you in his strings. It felt kind of like a weird, constrictive hug, but it was welcome nonetheless.  
  


When you went up to bed that night, he came with you, resting beside you while you fell asleep.  
  


You should have known that your body would do something weird to sabotage you. You fell into a weird, sticky dream, unlike anything you had experienced before.  
  


You immediately recognized that it was dirty and taboo, though.  
  


In your dream, the skeleton sleeping peacefully next to you was hunched over your form, fingers wrapped tightly around your throat while his strings constricted you and wrapped around your limbs from every angle.  
  


You had moaned wantonly, arching into him, to which he chuckled and roughly bit down on your shoulder.   
  


You woke up before it continued any further, but you nearly shit yourself when you rolled over only to see him snoring loudly next to you, ribcage slowly rising and falling with each of his fake breaths.  
  


That night was actually this night, and it was currently 4 AM in the morning as you stared down at his sleeping body. You were thankful that he had not been awake, because you were almost entirely sure he would have noticed something was wrong had he been awake.  
  


You shuddered to yourself, unsure of what actually had happened. You were no stranger to sex, obviously. You had gone to school, it wasn’t like you entirely skipped out on sexual education.. But you always considered yourself to be strictly asexual.. Hell, even aromantic!  
  


You had never had a dream like that before.. Neither had you ever felt the intense heat and growing ache between your legs, either. You turned pale at the thought, thinking something was wrong with you as you stood up from your bed and made your way downstairs, trying to ignore the slickness of your thighs.  
  


It was hard to find your computer in the dark, but once you did, you quickly sat down and logged in, typing away on google.  
  


 _Sex dream_ was the first thing you looked up, furrowing your brows as the name of such a phenomenon came on the screen.   
  


“Huh, so it’s called a wet dream.” You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as you became worried. Why were you having them?  
  


 _What does it mean when I have a wet dream about someone?_ **_  
_** **_  
_**

You felt silly looking it up, but it had to mean something. A quiet part of your brain shouted that it must mean you were into him. You shoved it to the side and frantically searched for answers, hoping that wasn’t the case.  
  


You sighed in relief at the search results. Most of them said that it was probably symbolic, and that you didn’t _actually_ want to fuck him. Somehow, though, you had a strong feeling that was not the case, but you pushed on with some sort of satisfaction and climbed back up your stairs, walking into your bedroom and falling back asleep on your bed.   
  


You failed to miss the fact that two mismatched eyelights were watching you intently, and that they had been since you woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


End file.
